The Only Solution
by clarinet-alto-4ever
Summary: John wakes up to a problem and panics to find a solution by the time he has to leave for work.  SH/JW, mild slash, one-shot.


A/N: I can't believe I'm writing a slashy fic, but this is based off of a true event that happened between me and my best gay friend, so I figured it would make a good story. They are together already, but probably haven't been for very long.

John Watson squinted as the sun burst through the windows of his bedroom. He rolled over to find the space next to him empty. This wasn't surprising or disconcerting to John. Sherlock often had a tendency to be up early running about and doing experiments.

He propped himself up and checked the clock. He had plenty of time before having to go into work. Flopping back down, he took a minute to convince himself to get up. The doctor finally trudged to the bathroom, stripped, and climbed into the shower. He continued through his normal morning routine: got dressed, made breakfast, and fixed his hair. He was spitting out the paste from brushing his teeth when he happened to glance in the mirror and paused in shock.

_What the hell . . . _On the side of his neck there was a blatant and offending bruise forming. He thought about it for a minute and then recalled Sherlock's enthusiasm the night before. Being way too distracted, he hadn't thought to stop him last night, but now John sincerely wished he had.

How on earth was he going to hide this? It was the middle of summer and there was no way he could wear a scarf or a turtleneck without eyebrows raising. Nor was there any way he could just leave it as it was; his co-workers at the clinic would give him hell about it. And imagine if he and Sherlock got called out on a case. He could just see Lestrade's face and hear Donovan and Anderson's sarcastic remarks.

No, he had to hide it somehow. Possibilities began to run through his head. Band-aid? So cliché and therefore so obvious. Everyone would still know exactly what it was. Pass it off as a bruise from something else? Maybe from a case? No, nobody would ever believe him. What would it be from? The case of the over-enthusiastic detective? That surely wasn't going to work.

Damn it. What else could he do? He pondered it for a few panicked minutes until a memory from his early teenage years came back to him.

*flashback*

The bathroom door wasn't locked, so how could he have known she was in there? Since growing older, he and Harry had implemented locking the door to the bathroom to avoid unpleasantness. However, she had neglected to do so, and therefore John had opened the door to reveal his sister hovered over the sink as close to the mirror as John thought humanly possible.

"What are you doing?" he asked innocently.

"John!" she shrieked, obviously surprised at seeing him in the bathroom with her. "What are you doing in here!"

John smirked slightly, "Well, it's not my fault you left the door unlocked."

Still furious, no matter that it was her fault, Harry spun around and pushed John back out of the bathroom, but not before he got a look at the bruised spot on her neck. "Scram!" she cried as she slammed the door in her little brother's face.

John hadn't thought much of the obvious hickey on his sister's neck until later that day when it was obviously absent. He was a relatively considerate brother for his age and patiently waited till he and Harry were alone to inquire about it.

Harry simply smiled like she was brilliant for having disguised it so well. "Ah, the magic of make-up," she replied, slightly haughtily, and walked off.

*end flashback*

_Make-up_! That really was brilliant and the perfect, perhaps only, solution to John's problem. However, the new pressing problem was how to acquire some make-up.

Going to the store would still involve going out in public. Granted, it was only around strangers, but there was still the chance that he would recognize someone and they'd see it. Mrs. Hudson? As much as he was certain the older lady already knew what he and Sherlock got up to, he wasn't prepared to face the subject head on with her.

Who else could provide him with the means to disguise the hickey . . . Sarah! She was perfect and his only hope. Thankfully they were still on good terms after the brief romance they had shared. It was actually her that first introduced the idea of Sherlock to John. Yes, she could help.

John rushed back to his bedroom, picked up the phone and quickly dialed her number.

XOX

Sarah was almost out the door when her phone rang. John's name flashed on the screen. She really hoped he wasn't calling in to work again; it got a little ridiculous how often he was gone for days on end with Sherlock gallivanting across London chasing dangerous criminals. Yet another reason she was secretly glad things didn't work out between them. His risk-taking with that crazy man would have driven her crazy.

"Good morning, John," she answered.

"Sarah! Have you left your house yet for work?" John asked in a hurry.

Sarah frowned at the panic she sensed in his voice. He was calling in, wasn't he? "No, I was just about to walk out. Did you need something?"

A huge sigh escaped from the other end of the line. "Yes, is there any way you could stop by my place before going to work? I need a huge favor."

Sarah checked her watch. "Yes, I have just enough time. John, what's this about?"

"I'll explain when you get here; but, Sarah, would you grab your make-up bag, please?"

"Uh, sure?"

"Great, thanks. See you soon," John replied and the line went dead.

Sarah stared at the phone in confusion, but nevertheless turned around and grabbed her bag from the bathroom. She knew John was gay, but she never saw him as one for going the drag queen route. What was this about?

It didn't take her long to reach John's flat on Baker street. Numerous situations had crossed her mind as to what he needed make-up for. Perhaps Sherlock secretly had a fetish? No, that was _highly_ unlikely. Maybe John was playing a joke on somebody. Probably not; he had sounded so alarmed over the phone. She was stumped.

However, she knew that her question would soon be answered as she knocked on the door of 221b. She tapped her foot with impatience as she heard the footsteps descend the stairs. The door was flung open by one of her best friends who quickly ushered her in and up towards his flat. She was no sooner inside when he came flying past her and shut the door behind them.

"Did you bring the make-up?" he asked hurriedly.

She nodded and reached inside her purse for the small bag. "John, what is this all about?"

A blush appeared on the top of his ears and he slowly turned his head, obviously embarrassed. Sarah got one look at the bruise on his neck and burst out in laughter.

John shifted on his feet. "Sarah, it's not that funny," he said getting pinker by the minute.

Sarah couldn't even argue with him as she pulled out the concealer from her purse, still laughing harder than she had in a long time. John grumbled as he retreated to the bathroom only to re-emerge a few minutes later with a neck free of any kind of mark. He scowled at her. "You can quit laughing any time now, you know."

Sarah just nodded as she caught her breath and John handed back the tube of make-up. She declined taking it back. "You might need it again," she said and tried to keep from starting to giggle all over again.


End file.
